


trick or treat

by lysimachia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Mutual Pining, Smut, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysimachia/pseuds/lysimachia
Summary: Principal Gold liked the new English Teacher the moment he hired her. Then he liked her a little more, and then a little more, and finally a little too much. What is a man to do when a bunch of idiotic kids lock him up in a storage closet with the object of his dreams?
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	trick or treat

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting some VERY old fic from Tumblr (previously daylilium and lysimachia on Tumblr)
> 
> Not me posting Halloween fic on 27 November. Sigh.

Gold grumbled as he slammed one hand against the file cabinet, willing it to open. The damn top drawer was constantly getting stuck, and he didn’t have enough spare in the budget to replace it. A few more jabs of his fist and one solid whack from his cane got the drawer to slide out, and after he extracted the files he needed he left it half open, just in case.

He sat behind his desk with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck and checking the clock. Almost 7, and pitch dark outside. Bailey was out trick-or-treating with his friends (under his father’s extremely strict instructions to stick to the well-lit roads, not follow the older boys into the woods, and stay far away from the mayor’s house unless he planned to egg it), so Gold had decided to catch up on some work, and put off going back to the empty house. The school was desperately in need of a reorganised budget, and he was determined to at least make a healthy start on it tonight; he wanted to identify at least one extraneous staff member who could be fired without needing to be replaced. God knows there always seemed to be ten too many lazy teachers contributing nothing in staff meetings. He opened up the first file, and began perusing it.

Hmm. Astrid Norwood. Religious Studies teacher, and heavily involved in the drama department. Her classes generally received good grades, and she volunteered for virtually every money-raising event the school ever held. Not entirely indispensable, but most definitely not his first choice. She went on the ‘no’ pile.

The next file was a little thicker. Michael Tillman. Woodworking and Home Economics. Not as charitable as Miss Norwood, but he’d taught at Storybrooke High for years and never caused a whit of trouble. And his students tended to adore him. Another one for the ‘no’ pile.

He paused a little over the next file, running his palm over his slight stubble. Mr Sean Herman; he’d been hired two years ago to teach Gym, as part of the government-regulated ‘keep fit’ plan they’d introduced. Gold seemed to remember the students getting along perfectly fine with Mr Tillman and Mrs Lucas heading their gym sessions in addition to their usual classes. He was the first to go in the ‘maybe’ pile.

He could tell immediately by the weight of the next file whose it was, and set it firmly down on the ‘no’ pile without even opening it.

The next was Mary Margaret Blanchard, a part-time hire who usually worked at Storybrooke Elementary. Gold was fairly sure he’d be hanged in the town square if he dared fire her.

After sorting through every one of his staff files, he heaved a sigh and leant back in his chair. Four maybes, in the end, and not one of them he was entirely happy with letting go. As much as he might scoff at their varied specialities, each of them provided a richer, fuller education for their students. As always, he tried to think of what he wanted for Bae.

Groaning, he let his head drop forward onto his folded hands, pulling his shoulder blades back and wincing at the ache in his neck. Sitting up straight, his eye landed on the thin folder he’d ignored earlier. A small smile already lighting his face, he reached for it and let it fall open on the desk in front of him.

Isabel French. Their latest hire, replacing Kathryn Nolan as Storybrooke High’s head of English, only a few months on the job and already extremely popular among the students. She’d been revamping the library in recent weeks, and had come to him only that morning about starting a student book club.

“I wanted your advice before I did anything, really,” she’d said, sipping delicately at her tea as his heart pounded out of his chest on the other side of his desk. “On the one hand, since it’s not really in the budget I’d try and get the kids to get the books themselves. On the other, I don’t want any of them – or their parents – feeling like they need to spend money on a new book every month for something the school’s running, on top of the books they need for classes. I feel like we should be able to provide that for them.”

He’d agreed heartily. “Unfortunately, I don’t know that we can.” Her soft, sad sigh had had him seriously considering slashing his own salary in half to pay for the damn club himself. Anything to see her smile.

Gold wasn’t a fool, not by any measure. He knew that Miss French would be mortified if she knew he harboured anything more than professional feelings for her, and even if she wasn’t, he could hardly carry on with one of his employees like that. Still, he couldn’t stop his chest tightening when she smiled at him in staff meetings, any more than he could resist popping by her classroom for ‘random inspections’ a few more times than any other teacher’s.

She was a wonderful teacher; firm but caring, sensitive to every student’s needs and accommodating even the most difficult children effortlessly. She’d fast become a favourite of Bae’s, his boy being something of a bookworm himself. Gold swore he’d nearly had a stroke when he’d first seen her interacting with Bae, giving him a warm hug when he’d aced an exam he’d been worrying about; they had the same blue eyes, and he’d had to tell himself very firmly not to indulge in any happy-families fantasies involving his new employee.

Something he’d failed to do rather miserably.

He let his eyes wander over the passport-sized photo clipped to the corner of the file, his fingertips grazing gently over the curve of her cheek.

Sitting up straighter, he shut the file with a little more force than necessary, setting it back on the ‘no’ pile and getting up from the desk. He was angry with himself, as he always was after he lost himself in thoughts of Miss French.

He snatched his cane up from where it lay on the each of his desk, and strode out of his office. _Stretch your legs a bit, get some coffee, and get back to work_ , he told himself. And he most certainly wouldn’t think any more about Belle French this evening.

All thoughts of Miss French – and of coffee and exercise – did indeed sweep out of his head when he found himself blinded, a bag thrown over his head and several pairs of strong arms grabbing him, practically hauling him off the ground as they sped him down the hallway. He tried to lash out, but his arms were pinned firmly to his sides and it was all he could do to force his legs to keep pace with his abductors. Blood rushed to his head and his heart pounded dangerously as a thousand scenarios ran through his mind – principal among them being _what’s going to happen to Bae?_ – until the sounds of some muffled giggles and decidedly adolescent whispers reached his ears. _Ah._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he glumly mused that he really should have predicted this. He’d left the front gates unlocked, seeing as he’d be working late, and it _was_ Halloween. His panic left him in a rush, and he spoke loudly.

“Very clever, boys. Can’t imagine it’ll seem all that amusing when the Sheriff’s talking to your parents tomorrow morning.”

His attackers kept leading him down the hallway, but abruptly stopped their whispers. Gold smirked a little.

“Not to mention the truly excellent detentions we give out here. You know, Mrs Lucas has been looking for volunteers to help with target practise in archery club. Or there’s some truly filthy sinks in the Art department that could certainly use a bit of elbow grease. Judging by your grip, Mr Zimmer, I think you’ll be the man for that job.”

It was a guess, but a lucky one by the sounds of the muffled cursing to his right, and the loosening to the iron grip on his arm.

Abruptly, he was brought to a stop, and he heard the rattle of a key in a lock. He groaned inwardly; if he was judging right, they were in front of the janitor’s supply closet next to the Chemistry labs. He wasn’t sure his bad leg could take a night on a hard floor.

He was pushed forward suddenly, and would he fallen if not for a pair of strong arms that caught him just as the door slammed shut behind them, the click of the lock followed by a series of whoops and high-fives and gradually fading footsteps.

“Mr Gold?!”

 _Oh, come on_. Surely the universe didn’t hate him that much.

The bag was pulled from his head, and he blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light. _Oh_. As it turned out, the universe hated him a _lot_ more than he’d realised.

Belle French stood in front of him, her body a scant few inches from his and her warm hands pressed gently into his upper arms, still steadying him although he regained his balance a few moments ago. Her hair fell in curls around her face where it was usually tied sensibly back, and her brilliant blue eyes shone with concern. _Concern she’d feel for anyone_ , he told himself quickly, _she’s the most compassionate person on the planet, she’d look like that if she thought a serial killer had scraped his knee_. Instead of her usual work clothes, she was in costume; _a princess_ , his mind filled in dazedly. _Of course_. Her dress was blue, to match her eyes, and even in the dim light of the supply closet is glittered all over. It had off-the-shoulder straps and fell to her knees, and, looking down, he noticed that she was barefoot. A quick glance around found a pair of silver heels in one corner. He supposed the dress was quite demure, particularly for a Halloween costume, but – he darted a glance at her chest, then brought his eyes snapping back up to a point somewhere above her head. The bodice was cut low – _dangerously_ low, he thought, gulping hard – giving him a tantalising glimpse at the soft swells at the tops of her breasts.

He concentrated on regulating his breathing. His racing heartbeat from the initial moment of panic when he’d been grabbed was back with a vengeance, and she didn’t make matters any easier when she lifted one hand to caress the side of his face, pushing his hair back and examining his eyes.

“Are you OK, Mr Gold?”

He swallowed hard. “Quite alright, Miss French. And you?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. I was on my way to Mary Margaret’s Halloween party, and the boys told me there was some emergency in the school.” She scowled, but there was no real anger behind it. “Then, of course, they bundled me in here.” She hadn’t taken her hands off him, he noticed. Surely she must feel how hot his skin was under her touch? “What about you?”

He blinked hard. “What…oh. I was working.” He jerked his head behind him, towards the locked door. “In my office. I went out for some coffee and found myself with a bag over my head.”

Belle frowned again, and he was certain he wasn’t imagining the more pronounced ire in her expression. “Those stupid boys. They could have really hurt you.” She glanced around, and let out an exasperated groan. “And they didn’t even bring your cane. Oh, they’re not that stupid, I don’t know why they do these things.”

Gold couldn’t help but smile. “Well, they are teenage boys,” he supplied.

Belle grabbed his hand, and coaxed him further into the closet. “Here,” she lowered herself to the floor, and motioned for him to do the same. “You can’t stay standing, sit down.” She sighed, wriggling a little, trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. “We may as well settle in.”

He sat, obediently, managing to hold back his wince as he stretched out his leg. They were side-by-side, their arms just barely brushing against each other. He forced himself not to look at her, not wanting to tempt himself to do something foolish.

“Did you have any more thoughts, about the book club?” he asked quietly. “Or the library?”

He heard her smile rather than saw it, but could imagine the beautiful upturn of her cheeks and eyes all the same. “Oh, yes, tons,” she said brightly. She chattered on for a while about her ideas for expanding the library, and perhaps moving more of the students up the advanced section more quickly; she had great faith in her pupils, he thought fondly. If only more educators had her patience.

He asked how her classes were going, and she asked how the budget was looking. They talked a little about their Halloween plans – she laughed, a warm, rich sound that he loved to coax from her, when he told her about the fake spiders he’d left in Bae’s bed – and the plans they had for the school over Christmas. A comfortable silence settled after a while, and Gold focused instead on the slight heat he could feel from her body.

“Bae will notice you’re gone, won’t he?”

He smiled instantly. “I imagine so. He pretends not to, but he does worry. He may well get Sheriff Swan on the case.”

Belle didn’t respond, and Gold risked a glance over at her. To his surprise, she was looking at him with a soft affection, a fond smile spread across her face. Her eyes sparkled.

“What?”

She shrugged a little. “You just…you smile every single time someone mentions Bae,” she murmured. “It’s nice. Too many parents seem to take their kids for granted, sometimes.” She sighed, her smile fading a bit. “Like young Mr Casey out there.” She nodded absently towards the door.

Peter Casey was one of Nicholas Zimmer’s friends, Gold remembered. “Is that right?”

Belle nodded sadly. “I mean, I’m not suggesting they neglect him, or anything like that. But – when a kid’s that highstrung, and that…inquisitive,” Gold chuckled lowly at her diplomatic word choice, and his breath caught in his throat when she nudged him with her shoulder. “Then they need particularly attention paid to them. They need lots of outlets for their behaviour, or they’ll…” She gestured lamely around them. “Well.”

Gold knew he was looking at her with something akin to wonder, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. “Indeed,” he murmured. He hesitated a little, turning his head away and stiffening slightly.

His movements didn’t go unnoticed, apparently. “Hey.” Belle nudged his arm softly again, and tilted her head forward, trying to catch his eye. “What is it?”

Gold took a deep breath. “You don’t…I…” He lifted one hand to card it awkwardly through his hair. “I mean…I’m not exactly always at home. Clearly.” He mirrored her gesture around the room.

Belle looked baffled for a moment, then abruptly horrified. “Oh, no!” She laid a hand on his arm. “No, oh my god, I didn’t mean – to suggest that. Not at _all_. No, you’re a _wonderful_ father.”

There was a tenderness to her tone that made his heart skip. He looked up to meet her eyes. “I…I mean, I have to work,” he continued, quietly. What was it about this woman, that he couldn’t stay away from her? If he wasn’t seeking her out to admire her eyes, he was confessing his darkest fears as a parent to her. “So I’m not always around. I take a lot of work home. Bae can be quite…quiet. Reserved. Maybe I’m not…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, not even wanting to know where it was heading.

He jumped a little when she laid a hand feather-light against his cheek. “I’m so sorry it seemed like I was saying that,” she whispered. There were tears in her eyes, he realised with a start. His hand came up to cradle hers.

“Belle, don’t…” He trailed off as her hand drifted down to brush against his lips.

“I would never think that,” she said fervently. “ _Never_. You…you’re the most wonderful father I’ve ever seen. You take such good care of Bae. And he loves you, so much.” She smiled, her beautiful eyes darting between his. She was close enough that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. “He’s quiet and reserved because that’s who he is,” she said softly. “Like father, like son.”

Gold chuckled, trailing his fingers across the back of her hand where it rested on his cheek. God, he never wanted her to stop touching him. Before he could stop himself, he closed his eyes, leaning in to her touch. She smelled like roses.

Suddenly, he felt her other hand cradling the other side of his face. Forcing his eyes open, he found her closer than before.

A lot closer.

Before he could process what was happening, she’d pressed her lips to his, the gentlest touch he’d ever felt, that nonetheless spread warmth throughout his entire body. He was frozen to the spot, terrified to do anything that might make her stop touching him, but with every cell in his body screaming to pull her closer, kiss her _properly_ , show her how much he’d wanted her.

He didn’t move. And after a second, she pulled away, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Oh…god, I…” She jerked her hands away, burying her face in them for a moment before jumping to her feet and turning away from him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I know I shouldn’t have done that. Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so embarrassed…”

Slowly, Gold got his feet, feeling a lot more shaky than when he’d been abducted earlier that evening. “Miss French,” he said slowly, walking towards her. He felt like he could barely breathe. “Belle?”

With a deep breath, she turned to face him, her eyes fluttering away from his almost immediately, dropping to gaze at the ground instead. “Mr Gold, I’m so sorry I just did that. I…obviously, you don’t feel the same, I just…can we please forget it ever happened?”

He stood stock still for a few seconds, her words washing over him. He studied her intently; her cheeks were flaming red and she was biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were still filled with tears, and she was valiantly trying to blink them away.

Taking a tiny step forward, he lifted his hand hesitantly, nudging her chin upwards so he could look her full in the eyes. “Belle,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. This couldn’t be happening. “Do you…you said, I don’t feel the same?”

Belle swallowed hard, looking away from him. “Of course, I…I don’t expect – ”

“How do you feel, Belle?” He lowered his head so he was almost brushing her lips again; instead of shying away, she followed him, almost catching his mouth with her own. He brushed his lips against her cheek, hearing her gasp.

She gasped, and pressed _closer_. Her hands reached up to grasp at the sides of his shirt, her fingers brushing against his waist.

Emboldened, he dropped a tiny kiss on her mouth, barely giving her time to respond before trailing a line of them against her jaw. “How do you feel, Belle?” he murmured against her skin, pausing when he reached a spot behind her ear that made her gasp and clutch him closer. “How do you feel?”

He suckled the spot gently, and nipped her gently there. Belle’s hands flew to his hair, pressing him more fully against her and pulling him forward until he had her backed against the wall. “I want you,” she breathed, carding her delicate fingers through his hair while her other hand slid down his back, pulling his flush against her. “I want you.”

With a groan, Gold tore away from her neck and captured her mouth with his own, kissing her like he’d been dying to from the moment he saw her. He felt the vibration of a moan escaping her before she slid her tongue into his mouth, catching the back of his neck with her fingers as though he was even thinking of pulling away.

He glided his tongue against hers almost lazily, the taste of her slowing his every movement down, her arms encircling her slowly and his hands exploring her body in long, smooth strokes. He lowered his mouth to brush against her collarbone, darting out his tongue to lick and nip her when she moaned and pulled him closer. She curled one leg around his calf, pushing her hips forward onto his body and grinding slowly against him with a breathy moan; he knew he didn’t have a chance in hell of supporting her fully, but hedged his bets and slid his hands underneath the hem of her dress to grasp at her smooth thighs, lifting her just slightly so she rested partway up his body, their hips aligned perfectly and the entirety of their torsos touching, as he balanced her between his body and the wall.

She grasped at his back, manoeuvring her arms so she could support herself almost entirely on his shoulders and give him room to move between their bodies. His hands moved in restless patterns along her thighs as his mouth explored the soft expanse of skin above her bodice. He moved his fingertips in tiny circles along her inner thigh, closer and closer to her centre as he kissed the tops of her breasts, the tiny impatience noises spilling over her lips driving him to the point of madness even without her fingernails digging into his back.

“Please…” she murmured, pushing her hips upward and making them both groan at the contact. “God, please…”

He moved back to claim her mouth again, a keening sound escaping from his throat when she immediately slid her tongue past his teeth to trip against the roof of his mouth, before biting gently at his bottom lip. His fingers moved further, and he brushed the thin cotton of her underwear with the pad of his thumb. She cried out against his mouth; _god_ , she was wet. She was wet, and wanting, and moaning, for _him_.

Slowly, he eased his fingers underneath the lace edging of her underwear. She let out a moan, and he pulled back to gaze intently at her. Her head was thrown back, but she raised it to look at him. She was flushed, strands of hair sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. Her eyes were bright. Her mouth, her gorgeous mouth, was swollen from his kisses.

He leaned in as his fingers brushed against her centre, needing the taste of her.

“Hey, Mr Gold? Gold? You around here?”

Belle’s eyes flew wide open at the sound of the Sheriff’s voice, and Gold pulled his hand abruptly from under her dress. Dropping her to the floor, he fluttered his hands all over her, trying in vain to straighten her up, as she did the same for him. He cleared his throat loudly, moving on shaking legs to pound on the door.

“Sheriff Swan? We’re in here.”

“We?”

“Dad!”

Warmth flooded his chest as he heard his son’s voice. “Hey, Bae. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?” They were obviously right outside the door now; one of them jiggled the handle.

“Hey, Gold, you know where the spare keys are?”

“My office, Sheriff,” he called. “Bottom drawer of my desk. And I know exactly how many peanut butter cups are in that packet, so don’t even think about it.”

The Sheriff set off, grumbling, but her footsteps stopped abruptly. “Hey, you said ‘we’. Who else is in there with you?”

Gold half-turned back to look at Belle. She’d straightened herself up a bit more, but her face was still flushed scarlet, and even in the dim light of the supply closet he could make out red marks on her neck and chest.

“Um, it’s me, Emma,” she called sheepishly. “Belle French?”

“Belle?” Swan sounded shocked. “Mary Margaret was looking for you earlier! Where’d you go?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I went to Egypt, Emma. Where do you think I went, I got stuck in here! Some boys from the school kidnapped us!”

“Riiiight,” The Sheriff sounded odd; like she was speaking around a broad smile. Gold heard Bae snigger. “Look, we’ll go get those keys, we’ll be right back.”

Gold could hear his son and the Sheriff muttering together the whole way down the hall. He turned back to Belle. She was very pointedly not looking at him, her face still flushed beetroot-red.

“Um,” she began, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “I…look, Mr Gold, I…”

Before she could finish, Gold stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. She squeaked in surprise, but melted into the kiss immediately, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. When he pulled away, she rested her forehead against his with a satisfied hum.

He gazed intently into her eyes. “Have dinner with me,” he said huskily.

She blinked up at him, a smile quirking the corners of her mouth. “Yes,” she whispered, drawing him in for another kiss. “I’d like that.”


End file.
